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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422526">If I could be with you tonight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylapislazuli/pseuds/ladylapislazuli'>ladylapislazuli</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Background Relationships, Codependency, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon, Unreliable Narrator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:20:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylapislazuli/pseuds/ladylapislazuli</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dedue?” Dimitri says. Quiet, confused. Surely Dedue cannot be angry with <i>him</i>. “Is everything all right?”</p><p>“Perfectly, Your Majesty.” Dedue’s voice is steady as ever, entirely at odds with the rest of him. “Come, sit down.”</p><p>- - -</p><p>Dimitri has always thought that Dedue will leave him one day.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>149</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>If I could be with you tonight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TRIGGER WARNINGS: Touches on the Tragedy of Duscur and canon-based discrimination and power imbalances (the canon itself is inherently problematic, so please approach with care if this is triggering for you). Mental health issues (see end notes for more detail).*</p><p>Background pairings: Felix/Annette, hints of Sylvain/Mercedes</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They are taking a quiet dinner in Dimitri’s chambers when it happens.</p><p>It is late. Dimitri has worked well into the evening, and barely drags his bones upstairs when he is finished. He fully intends to collapse into bed and be done with the day, only to find Dedue in his chambers, reading a book by the fire. Waiting for him, with dinner covered and ready on the table.</p><p>Dedue should not have waited. Dimitri means to tell him off – there is no need for Dedue to go hungry while Dimitri finishes paperwork, and who knows how many hours Dedue has been sitting here? But when Dedue looks up, his features soften in welcome, and all other thought flies from Dimitri’s head.</p><p>They eat in companionable silence. Dimitri is poor company tonight, too fatigued to hold an interesting conversation. But with Dedue he need not push himself. Does not need to worry about keeping up an engaging stream of small talk while he blearily shovels vegetables into his mouth, having to remind himself to chew. And Dedue, never the most talkative of men, is quiet himself.</p><p>Everything is normal. Easy and familiar. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.</p><p>But halfway through the meal, Dedue suddenly sets down his fork. Dimitri blinks at the noise. Looks up to find Dedue’s expression unexpectedly tense.</p><p>“Sylvain has invited me to Gautier,” Dedue says.</p><p>It takes Dimitri a moment to parse that sentence. A moment longer to understand why Dedue has abandoned his meal and sits ramrod straight in his chair across from Dimitri. Dedue’s voice is steady as ever, but the fact he has brought this up mid-meal, and without any preamble, is enough indication that it has been weighing on his mind.</p><p>Dimitri’s reply is not as eloquent as it could be. “Oh?”</p><p>A nod from Dedue. Dimitri sets his own cutlery down. Tries to force his tired brain back to work.</p><p>The invitation is unexpected. Dedue and Sylvain are friendly, but Dimitri has never known them to spend much time together. He sees them chatting occasionally in corridors – well, Sylvain chatting while Dedue nods along – but he has never known Sylvain to invite Dedue as far as the tavern, let alone back to his ancestral home.</p><p>“What for?” Dimitri says, though he hastily amends when he realises how disparaging that sounds. “It is good that you are spending time together, I mean. I am just surprised. Sylvain is rarely in Gautier, after all, and he does not often receive guests there.”</p><p>Dedue nods again. “I believe he has a business proposition for me.”</p><p>Dimitri blinks. “In Gautier?”</p><p>Another nod.</p><p>“What business? For how long?”</p><p>Dedue does not answer the first question – a fact Dimitri will ruminate on later. “Sylvain has estimated a week, but I believe the matter will take us further afield. By my calculations, I will be gone a month.”</p><p>A month. A <em>month</em>.</p><p>Dimitri’s heart stutters in his chest. His stomach churns and his dinner, which he would have forgone in the first place if not for Dedue, loses its appeal entirely.</p><p>A month without Dedue.</p><p>Dimitri schools his features. Manages, “Quite a journey, then,” though the smile on his face feels strange.</p><p>Dedue frowns. His lips tighten, eyes searching Dimitri’s face. “I will not go if you do not wish it.”</p><p>“Do not be absurd, Dedue,” Dimitri says. “Of course you must go. I look forward to hearing of your travels.”</p><p>He tries for another smile – a mistake, because he can feel it wavering. Goes for a drink of water in an attempt to cover it.</p><p>A whole month without Dedue. Dedue, who is <em>always</em> with Dimitri. Has not left his side for more than a day since the war ended, let alone a month.</p><p>But Dimitri is being absurd. It will be good for Dedue. And if Dimitri is so shaken by the mere thought of time apart, it will be good for <em>him</em> too. Dedue can get his – his business sorted, whatever it is. He spends too much time on Dimitri anyway. It will be good for them both, and it looks like Sylvain has presented them with the perfect opportunity.</p><p>Still, Dimitri feels sick. A jittery, shaky, foolish feeling, but knowing it is foolish does not stem its tide. He still feels sick. And filling his belly with water is not helping.</p><p>“Your Majesty.”</p><p>Dedue is giving him a long, heavy look. Trying to get Dimitri to look him in the eye, and Dimitri evades before he realises that it is a test. Forces himself to meet Dedue’s gaze – no easy task, for all the years he has known him. Dedue is a stoic man, difficult to read even to those who know him best, but his eyes are a different matter. Full of every thought and feeling Dedue will never voice, piercing, all-consuming, and the full weight of them never fails to leave Dimitri breathless.</p><p>Dimitri cannot help it. He looks down.</p><p>A beat. A <em>judgment</em>, though Dedue is never so cruel as to name it so.</p><p>“It is not important. I will remain here,” Dedue says.</p><p>Dimitri feels the hot sting of shame. Shuts his eye, taking a breath. Dedue is always like this. Too good to him. Too concerned, no matter how irrational Dimitri is being.</p><p>“Do not be ridiculous, Dedue,” he says firmly. “Of course you must go.”</p><p>Dedue’s brows furrows. He looks like he might argue, so Dimitri starts talking. Cutting off any attempt at rebuttal before it comes.</p><p>“How do you intend to make the journey? Horse or carriage? A carriage would be more comfortable if you intend long days of travel, though I know you prefer horseback. How much will you be carrying, do you think?”</p><p>Dimitri stands, starting to pace, unable to sit still with the strange, restless energy working its way through him. His tiredness is long gone.</p><p>“You will need a carriage if you intend to carry much – though now that I think of it, Sylvain has a carriage stashed away somewhere that would suit most purposes. Perhaps you can ride to Gautier, then make further arrangements from there. Oh! You should take Cedany with you.” Cedany is Dimitri’s horse. Not as big as Dedue’s gelding, but still big enough to carry him. “I am not travelling this month, and I know you dislike riding strange horses. You will need to change along the way – Cedany can carry you, I assure you.”</p><p>Dimitri is rambling. Coming up with solutions to a problem Dedue never posed to him in the first place. Doing a poor job of containing the damnable anxiety that sits in his gut.</p><p>Dedue, of course, sees right through him. “Your Majesty. I do not wish to leave you alone.”</p><p>That stings. Hits too close, speaks to the fears constantly simmering at the back of Dimitri’s mind. Unspoken, dark things that haunt him in the dead of night, whenever he lies down to sleep.</p><p>Dedue does not say it to hurt him. Cannot know what Dimitri thinks, in the most private corners of his mind.</p><p>Dimitri swallows. Pastes a smile on his face. “Truly, Dedue, you worry too much. I am quite capable of doing my paperwork unsupervised. I am perfectly happy on my own.”</p><p>(On his own. A whole month without Dedue. A <em>whole month</em>.)</p><p>Dedue studies him, and Dimitri cannot afford to falter. Straightens his back, forces his expression into some approximation of neutral. They stare at each other, at an impasse.</p><p>But Dedue wants to go on his business. Must do, because… he yields.</p><p>“If you are sure, Your Majesty.”</p><p>A moment of silence. A beat. Dimitri surprised and off-kilter, because somehow he still expected Dedue to argue with him. Did not expect Dedue to capitulate so easily, because Dedue is the most stubborn man Dimitri knows when he is set on something.</p><p>But he gives in just like that. <em>Wants</em> to go, more than Dedue would ever say aloud. And Dedue rarely asks for anything, rarely voices what he wants, and so Dimitri has learned to read between the lines. Can see the conflict in him now, Dedue’s sense of duty at war with his personal desires.</p><p>Dedue wants to go. But if Dimitri asked, Dedue would abandon the idea and never say another word about it.</p><p>Dimitri takes a breath. Sits back down at the table, across from Dedue. Looks him in the eye. “When do you leave?”</p><p>- - -</p><p>Dimitri survives the month without him.</p><p>He keeps his head up. Keeps himself busy. Works long into the night so that when he returns, the silence of his empty chambers does not bother him. He takes Cedany out riding - Dedue refused to take her, and some of the stable hands find her challenging (which is ridiculous, as she is perfectly malleable once you get to know her), but Dimitri enjoys the task. He gets a lot done. More than usual, even. The great mountain of paperwork always looming in his office has never seen such a worthy adversary.</p><p>Sometimes, admittedly, he will go to collect his cloak for an afternoon walk and remember there is no one to go with. Sometimes out of habit he will put the kettle on, only to remember there is no one reading in the other armchair. Sometimes he will look to the side to share a moment with Dedue, only to remember that Dedue is not there.</p><p>But it is fine. Dimitri is fine. It is only a month, and it is good for Dedue to pursue other opportunities. He worries about Dimitri far too much. Takes more upon himself than any vassal in the whole history of the kingdom, Dimitri is sure of it. Dedue spends too much time fussing over Dimitri rather than looking to his own future – a break will do him good.</p><p>And Dimitri is… fine.</p><p>Annette is around a lot. The Royal School of Sorcery is on mid-term break, and she often comes up to the palace to play a game of counters and regale Dimitri with complaints about Felix.</p><p>"He's so <em>stubborn</em>," she sighs. "He never listens to a word I say. He hurt his shoulder last week doing some stupid training stunt with Sylvain and I only found out about it when Ingrid told me."</p><p>Felix is in his duchy most of the time, while Annette remains in Fhirdiad. They write often, Dimitri knows – knows too that they miss each other when they are apart. Dimitri is not entirely sure when Felix and Annette became Felix-and-Annette, but there is no doubt of their feelings for each other, despite the distance between them.</p><p>"Felix has always been stubborn," Dimitri reminds her, moving his counter. He is not paying that much attention to the game – having trouble focusing – but it does not matter much. She always wins anyway.</p><p>Annette snorts. Moves a counter of her own, backing Dimitri into a corner. "He's the worst. I don't know why I put up with him.”</p><p>The smile on her face says something different entirely.</p><p>Mercedes also visits. She treks up to the palace for tea and the occasional glass of wine, giving him updates on the construction of the new orphanage.</p><p>"We're salvaging what we can from the old buildings," she tells him. The ones reduced to rubble during the war that, even two years later, have yet to be fully cleared. There has been a lot else to do. "I think it'll be really quite something by the time we're done."</p><p>"How are the children now?" Dimitri asks. They have been put up in every available space, kept warm and well-fed, but their lodgings are scattered and less than ideal. The new orphanage will be much better for them, but these things always take time.</p><p>"They're keeping well," Mercedes says. Her whole face warms at the mere mention of them. "Little Dom's speech is improving."</p><p>"That is a great relief," Dimitri says. For a time, it looked like the child - only four years old when he lost both his parents - might never speak again. "I am sure he is flourishing in your care."</p><p>Mercedes laughs, covering her mouth with a dainty hand. "No need to flatter me, Your Majesty. It's a team effort, as you know. Anyway, enough about me.” She sets down her wine glass. Peers into his face in the way that always makes him want to squirm – for all her kindness, Mercedes has piercing eyes. “How are you, Your Majesty? You look a little tired, if you don’t mind me saying.”</p><p>Dimitri is tired. A little… out of sorts, though he does not say as much. He wonders if she sees it anyway, because her visits have certainly increased in regularity.</p><p>“I am busy, as always,” he replies. Evasive, but she lets it lie.</p><p>Dimitri is fine. Or, if not fine, at least coping. Because he knows how ridiculous he is, even if he cannot assuage the anxiety stewing constantly in his gut, the odd jolts of panic at random intervals.</p><p>Dedue is on a business trip. Dedue is coming back. It is only a few weeks.</p><p>Just a few more weeks.</p><p>The anxiety is easier to ignore during the day. When Dimitri’s hours are filled with work, and people to speak to, and duties to attend. When he is the king, ruling, leading, making decisions, wearing his mantle like a suit of armour.</p><p>But the mantle comes off in the privacy of his chambers. And at night, the anxiety is a different matter entirely.</p><p>Dimitri keeps having nightmares. Keeps dreaming of a dungeon, Dedue's face looming over him, Dedue pulling him to his feet and ordering him to run. Fighting, so much fighting, and Dimitri only thought Dedue died the first time around but this time he is there to see it. Sees Dedue die right in front of him every time he lays down to sleep, and Dimitri wakes shaking and retching and scrambling for his letters, tracing his fingers over Dedue’s neat, even script.</p><p>
  <em>I have arrived at Gautier. Sylvain sends his regards.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I have been travelling this week. Expect another letter in a few days.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I hope you are well. Please do not forget to water the pot plants.</em>
</p><p>Normal. Safe. Whole and hale. But Dimitri clutches the letters to his chest, gasping for air. Seeing blood and pain and death take Dedue – unreal, just a nightmare, but his mind replays the scene over and over again. Violent, gory, all-too-real, because Dimitri’s mind has plenty of memories to draw from.</p><p>Dimitri cannot lose him. Went mad the first time, the grief running deeper even than his hatred, breaking parts of him that will never be fixed. He cannot lose Dedue. Does not know how to be without him, how to live in a world without Dedue in it.</p><p>Dedue is just on a business trip. Dimitri knows that, he knows. Knows how foolish he is when the sun rises, and his night terrors fade with the light. Dedue is alive and well. Dimitri does not go mad again in his absence.</p><p>But sometimes, it feels like a near thing.</p><p>- - -</p><p>Dedue returns in four weeks and three days exactly. Hair tousled, clothing covered in travel dust and horsehair, and the moment Dimitri lays eyes on him he feels almost weak with relief.</p><p>He races down the stairs as Dedue unties his luggage from the back of his horse. Greets him with a firm grip on both shoulders – Dedue is warm and solid and perfectly hale - and it is all Dimitri can do not to shake him with the burst of energy that fills him at the sight of Dedue’s face.</p><p>Dedue is back. He is <em>back</em>.</p><p>“Welcome home,” Dimitri says, smiling so widely it strains his cheeks.</p><p>Dedue’s eyes go soft – and how Dimitri has missed those eyes, the impossible mixture of green-grey-blue that memory never does justice – and he smiles back. Just a curve of his lips, a quiet thing, but Dimitri’s whole body feels warm with the sight of it.</p><p>Dedue is back. Dimitri is so giddy with it that it takes him a while to notice that anything is amiss.</p><p>They hold a dinner party to welcome Dedue home – Dimitri is not the only one who missed him, after all, and Dedue has never been away before. Mercedes and Annette both kiss him on the cheek, though in Annette’s case she also flings her arms around his neck and their size disparity is such that she is all but dangling from his shoulders. Felix, newly-arrived from Fraldarius himself, rolls his eyes at her exuberance and pries her off him, clasping Dedue’s hand in his own. A perfunctory gesture that, for Felix, is very friendly indeed.</p><p>They are missing a few key faces, but that just means another dinner will be in order in future. Dedue is home, Dimitri is surrounded by friends, and nothing could be more right in the world.</p><p>“Come, let me pour the drinks!” Dimitri says, louder and more excited than such an offer warrants, but Annette whoops and hustles over to help him, equal in her delight.</p><p>It is a wonderful evening. Dimitri barely stops smiling, talking and laughing more than he has in months. Dedue tells them of his travels, the people he met, the things he saw.</p><p>“Sylvain, I regret to say, is keeping up his old ways,” Dedue says. Lips pinched, but eyes filled with the mixture of amusement and resignation typical of Sylvain’s friends.</p><p>Dimitri laughs. Dedue shoots him a glance, lips quirking into a brief, private smile that spreads warmth to the very tips of Dimitri’s toes. That catches him, for a moment, in the striking colour of Dedue’s eyes – deep green, morphing into turquoise when the light strikes just right.</p><p>Dimitri has missed him so very, very badly.</p><p>“Sylvain's <em>awful</em>,” Annette is saying, and Dimitri forces his attention back to the table. “Mercie, remember at that dance last year when he got up on the table and-”</p><p>“Oh, <em>don’t</em>,” Mercedes says, flapping her hands.</p><p>“- he said he just had to announce right there, in front of everybody, that you were the most beautiful woman in the world -”</p><p>“Annie, please.”</p><p>“- and then he got slapped by Lady Emmeline and you said-”</p><p>“<em>Annie</em>.”</p><p>Annette clasps her hands in front of her in her best Mercedes impression. “‘Oh, Sylvain! I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening. Were you talking to me?’”</p><p>“Oh stop, stop!” Mercedes wails. “He deserved it! Though I admit it was a little cruel of me. Annie, I can’t believe you’re still bringing that up.”</p><p>“He had it coming,” Felix snorts. “He’s always making a spectacle of himself.”</p><p>True, but particularly in front of Mercedes. Dimitri wonders, sometimes, if there is something sincere behind his regard for her - Sylvain certainly likes her as a friend, which is more than can be said for most of the woman he flirts with - or if he simply enjoys the challenge. Mercedes has a singular talent for, in the sweetest and most delicate manner possible, putting Sylvain thoroughly in his place.</p><p>“I do hope he didn’t embarrass you, Dedue,” Mercedes says. “He can be quite a handful when he wants to be, and you’re such a respectable man.”</p><p>Dedue shakes his head. “He did not. Though he embarrassed himself plenty.”</p><p>Laughter around the table. Annette leans into Felix’s side, with all the ease and familiarity of her temperament. Felix, though, starts, his cheeks flushing. Slowly raises an arm to rest around her shoulders, expression almost… wondering.</p><p>The softness fades the second he catches Dimitri looking at him. He glowers – and there is the Felix Dimitri knows. But Dimitri just smiles, and Felix averts his gaze, cheeks reddening further.</p><p>He doesn’t remove his arm. He and Annette are good together, and Dimitri feels an odd pang. He is happy for them, and he cannot think of a better match. But watching them together he feels almost… wistful.</p><p>Romance. It feels a long way away from his own life.</p><p>But he finds himself looking over at Dedue – a habit, more than anything. And Dedue is watching him, his ever-changing eyes so very warm. Expression entirely open, as it is for nobody but Dimitri, and it makes his heart stutter in his chest.</p><p>Perhaps Dimitri does not need romance. As long as he has Dedue, that is more than enough.</p><p>They finish their dinner. Move onto desserts, and though Dimitri does not partake, he made sure to order the jam-filled cakes he knows Dedue particularly likes from the kitchens. Smiles to himself as Dedue's eyes glow with pleasure - a subtle thing on him, always so subtle. Visible to no one else, perhaps, for Dedue says nothing at all. But Dimitri knows him. Knows he has done well, and makes a point of serving a particularly generous scoop of custard onto the side of Dedue's plate.</p><p>“Dedue, I’ve been dying to ask,” Mercedes says as they eat. “I know Sylvain’s looking to expand his estate, but I’ve been curious about what he needed you for. What is it you two did together?”</p><p>A beat. “He made me an offer.”</p><p>“An offer?”</p><p>Dedue nods. “I am considering it.”</p><p>That is as much as he will say on the subject. No further details, not so much as a hint. Dedue’s expression is suddenly closed-off, and he turns the conversation to the orphanage, asking for Mercedes’ news in his absence.</p><p>It is not out of character. Dedue often takes time to think before he will speak about a subject. Dimitri knows it, everyone knows it. Mercedes does not press him. She lets him change the subject assuming, probably, that Dedue will share when he is ready.</p><p>But the thing is… Dedue is not usually so taciturn with <em>Dimitri</em>.</p><p>Because days pass, then a week, then another. Dedue goes about the rhythm of his life much the same as ever, and nothing has outwardly changed. He and Dimitri go on walks, they take dinner together, they go riding. Dedue potters about the greenhouse while Dimitri is in meetings, and they take tea together when Dimitri is done. He tells Dimitri more of his travels – interesting plants he would like to purchase, inns he stayed at, theatre shows Sylvain insisted on taking him to.</p><p>But he says nothing of Sylvain’s offer. Nothing. Not even when Dimitri prods, in a careful sort of way, just to let Dedue know that Dimitri is available should he like a sounding board. An offer Dedue usually takes him up on, sooner or later.</p><p>Not this time. Dedue says <em>nothing</em>, and Dimitri’s elation at his return slowly fades.</p><p>Dedue is home, but it is not the same. Because for perhaps the first time ever, and for no reason Dimitri can discern, Dedue is keeping something from him.</p><p>- - -</p><p>It comes to a head one evening when Dimitri walks into his chambers to find Dedue sitting at his writing desk. Dinner is covered and waiting on the table, but Dedue does not look up when Dimitri opens the door. He keeps frowning down at his letter, writing something then crossing it out a moment later, so focused he has not noticed Dimitri come in.</p><p>Dimitri smiles. Takes off his outer layers, hanging his cloak and overcoat by the door, and toes off his boots. He pads over to the desk as Dedue mutters something under his breath, scratching something else out.</p><p>It is a perfectly peaceful scene. So Dimitri is not expecting Dedue, when he looks up, to startle quite so violently.</p><p>Dedue’s eyes widen. His whole hand jerks, spilling ink across the paper and almost knocking the inkwell off the desk. He scrambles to catch it, dropping his quill entirely, splotching his letter with yet more ink, ruining it completely.</p><p>An apology leaps to Dimitri’s lips – he is almost as startled as Dedue at such a violent reaction, and he certainly did not mean to give Dedue a fright. But it dies a moment later, because Dedue does something even stranger. Fumbles for his letter. Folds it over, wet ink and all. Looks decidedly away from Dimitri as he stuffs it, not into the wastepaper basket, but into his own pocket.</p><p>Dimitri's smile is frozen on his face. Disbelieving, unsure what he just witnessed. Unsure why Dedue would feel the need to hide anything from him so completely – Dimitri is not in the habit of reading Dedue’s letters. So why would he…?</p><p>Dedue is silent. Setting the desk back to rights. Not looking at Dimitri.</p><p>Dimitri clears his throat. Falls back on formality. “My apologies, Dedue. I did not mean to surprise you.”</p><p>“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Dedue returns. Entirely polite, despite his bizarre behaviour. “I did not hear you come in.”</p><p>He stands. Hastens over to the table, avoiding eye contact, and begins to serve them both dinner even though it is Dimitri's turn to do so. His body language is off. Tense, jerky. He looks… he looks <em>angry</em>, which is a rare thing for him indeed.</p><p>But there he is. Clattering cutlery. Still not speaking to Dimitri.</p><p>“Dedue?” Dimitri says. Quiet, confused. Surely Dedue cannot be angry with <em>him</em>. “Is everything all right?”</p><p>“Perfectly, Your Majesty.” Dedue’s voice is steady as ever, entirely at odds with the rest of him. “Come, sit down. You must be hungry.”</p><p>Dimitri does not sit. “What is the matter?”</p><p>Dedue’s hands still. He shuts his eyes, taking in a long, deep breath. Exhales again, and when he straightens up he is able to meet Dimitri’s gaze. Outwardly calm. As though nothing ever happened to begin with.</p><p>“My apologies for my outburst, Your Majesty. It was unseemly. I am well, I assure you. Please sit.”</p><p>“Dedue.” Dimitri cannot help it – there is a plea in his voice.</p><p>But Dedue looks down. Silent, still, utterly implacable. Averting his gaze, clasping his hands neatly in front of him. Restrained and respectful – refusing to answer.</p><p>Dimitri knows him. Knows a refusal when he sees it, just as he knows that Dedue can only be coaxed out of these moods by time and patience. He will speak when he is ready and not a moment before, and Dimitri knows better than to push him.</p><p>But Dedue is acting so strange. And Dimitri thought Dedue’s return would make everything better again, but is has <em>not</em>, and the anxiety builds to breaking point. Dedue will not tell him anything. And all of a sudden Dimitri cannot contain himself.</p><p>“Why are you keeping secrets from me?” Dimitri’s voice is high. Angry, even though he is not. Confrontational, even though he does not mean to start a fight.</p><p>Any trace of warmth vanishes from Dedue’s face. His jaw firms, a muscle visibly clenching. He meets Dimitri’s gaze, as hard and immovable as stone. “I am not keeping secrets.”</p><p>“You <em>are</em>,” Dimitri protests. Not checking his words at all – a mistake, always a mistake, but they keep flowing out of him all the same. “What is going on, Dedue? Why will you not tell me?”</p><p>Dedue grinds his jaw. “Are you dissatisfied with my work, Your Majesty?”</p><p>“What are you – <em>Dedue</em>.” Dimitri stares at him. Finishes his sentence with an all-encompassing gesture, because it is impossible to argue with Dedue when he is like this. When he retreats so far into the role of vassal it is like a wall coming down between them, cutting Dimitri off.</p><p>Dedue just turns away.</p><p>“Dedue, please.”</p><p>Dedue’s back is rigid. He takes the lid off a pot of soup. Sets it on the table, hands perfectly still.</p><p>“These,” he says slowly. Not looking at Dimitri. Not even turning his head. “These are personal matters. They have no bearing upon my duties to Your Majesty.”</p><p>“Your <em>duties</em><em>-</em>” Dimitri starts. Stops.</p><p>He looks around the room. At the dinner for two awaiting them on the table. Dedue’s cloak hanging beside his. Dedue’s armchair, Dedue’s beloved pot plants, Dedue’s presence here, with him.</p><p>Dedue’s duties. Because for all the things Dedue is to Dimitri, he is his vassal first. Owes Dimitri a duty. Is here <em>because</em> of that duty.</p><p>And here, in the intimate sanctuary of Dimitri’s chambers, the reminder hits him like a blow.</p><p>Dimitri swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. Cold, all of a sudden, despite the fire roaring in the hearth. Swallows again, reflexively.</p><p>“Of course,” he manages. “You are right, I apologise.”</p><p>Dedue nods. Starts ladling soup into a bowl – and it is absurd, utterly absurd. An uncanny moment of dissonance. Serving soup in Dimitri’s warm, comfortable chambers, when the air between them is icy. When Dedue feels so very, very far away.</p><p>Dimitri can’t stand it.</p><p>He turns abruptly. Heads back towards the door, yanking on his boots. Goes for his cloak – Dedue beats him to it.</p><p>“Where are you going?” Dedue’s voice is higher, now, laced with tension. It is not an improvement.</p><p>“Out.” Dimitri holds out his hand for his cloak, but Dedue pulls it tighter against his own chest.</p><p>“It is late. You should not be unattended.”</p><p>“What do you imagine will happen to me?” Dimitri says – snaps, even as he tries not to. He is so on-edge he is practically vibrating with it. “I am perfectly capable of defending myself.”</p><p>Dedue’s lips firm into a line. Disagreement. But Dimitri is done here. With this, with all of it. He does not want to fight – feels practically ill with it. He just wants to go.</p><p>“Hand me my cloak, please,” he says. Reaches for it, but Dedue takes a step backwards.</p><p>“It is late, Your Majesty.” It Dedue’s version of <em>no</em>.</p><p>Dimitri has nothing more in him. Dedue is so strange, and Dimitri needs out, needs it <em>right now</em>.</p><p>So he goes.</p><p>He is quicker than Dedue. Unpredictable in his impulsivity, and he is out the door and down the stairs before Dedue can call a protest. Abandoning the cloak entirely, plunging into the maze of the palace before Dedue has a chance at catching him.</p><p>He does not run, but it is a near thing.</p><p>He walks blindly, even as he weaves in and out, down one winding side passage after another, taking a route Dedue has no chance of following. Down, down, down, deep into the bowels of the palace. Corridors empty and echoing at this time of night, shadow all around.</p><p>Dimitri’s anger, if it can be called such, dies all-too-quickly. And all that is left is the cold, and the damp, and the misery. Alone. Dimitri is alone.</p><p>It does not take long for him to regret it. A perfectly pleasant evening ruined by Dimitri’s agitation, by his inability to take no for an answer and let Dedue keep his own counsel. And Dedue unfailingly, infuriatingly <em>reasonable</em> in the face of it all – cold, perhaps, and closed-off, but reasonable. Dimitri dearly wishes he would lose his temper sometimes. Shout, or curse, or slam the door.</p><p>But Dedue would never. Because it is not in his temperament to do so, maddeningly steady no matter the situation. Because – and this is the part that hurts the most, that makes guilt well up in Dimitri’s chest – Dedue has a <em>duty</em>.</p><p>It always comes back to that, somehow. No matter how many years pass. No matter how dearly Dimitri wishes it were otherwise. Dedue is Dimitri’s vassal. How could he ever lash out at Dimitri? How could he be blunt, or angry, or thoughtless, when he is in Dimitri’s service? Dimitri does not want to hold power over Dedue, but it changes nothing. He has it.</p><p>Dimitri is a pathetic excuse for a man. Pushing Dedue further than Dedue wishes to go. Asking for more than Dedue can give.</p><p>He does not turn back, even when he begins to shiver. Faerghus born and bred he may be, but it is beginning to snow outside, and he is wearing only his shirt and trousers. He should go somewhere warm, to the kitchens, or the library, or his chambers if he can swallow his foolish pride. Go back and apologise, repent his sins, and bury his selfish anxieties deep, deep down.</p><p>Dimitri should go back. He goes outside instead.</p><p>The grounds are very dark with the snow clouds overhead. It is too early in the season for a big snowfall – most of it will melt by morning - but the wind is bitter. Dimitri wraps his arms about his torso. Walks on, wandering, aimless.</p><p>There is something strangely enticing about nights like this. Dimitri remembers sitting, many years ago, in a window-seat in a room high above. His face pressed to the cold glass, fingers pointing excitedly at every individual snowflake as he chattered endlessly. He does not remember what he said – nothing important, just the excited prattle of a young child. But he remembers his father coming up beside him, a fond hand settling on his shoulder. Tugging Dimitri in close so he could squash into the window-seat next to him. Arm so big and warm around Dimitri as he helped to count them – one, two, three – and <em>look, Dimitri, look at that big one</em>.</p><p>Dimitri raises his face to the sky, snowflakes falling onto his skin. Melting, all too soon, into nothingness. </p><p>He wonders what his father would say if he saw who Dimitri is now.</p><p>He walks the grounds far longer than he should. The wind is picking up, rain mixing in with the snow, growing heavier with every minute that passes. His clothing is clinging to his skin, wet and freezing cold, and he is beginning to tremble. But he walks longer still. Wraps his arms tighter about himself, and lowers his head to the rain.</p><p><em>Dedue is going to leave me</em>.</p><p>It is an irrational fear. One that rears its ugly head every once in a while, despite the complete lack of evidence. Dedue is so loyal, so devoted, far more than Dimitri has ever deserved. But every time they argue, he thinks it. Every time Dedue goes hard and distant, Dimitri thinks it. Every year that goes by, as they grow and change and a peaceful world becomes not a wish but a present reality, Dimitri thinks it. It seems inevitable.</p><p>One day, Dedue is going to leave. Forge a future for himself, one that makes full use of all his skills and talents, one without danger and violence. Dedue will marry, make a home, build a family. Live the life he deserves to live, happy and at peace.</p><p>It is irrational. But it swirls around and around in Dimitri's mind all the same. One day, Dedue is going to leave him, and Dimitri will be entirely alone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Mental health issues: co-dependency, fear of abandonment, depression, self-esteem issues, hallucinations.</p><p>I'm @ladylapisxx on Twitter, come say hi! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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